Fix You
by x-the-rising-x
Summary: Months after the death of her best friend, Brooke decided to return to Tree Hill and deal with those she left behind. But her return comes with many regrets, ignored responsibilities, and secrets long kept. Enter the tangled web. LB.BN.NH
1. Here Without You

**She Cries on Him**

**Here guys, it's a kind-of reworked version of the story that me and Jacqueline started. I kind-of stole our idea and made a new story, lol, but it's okay, cause we're gonna write a new one together. So yeah, please r+r**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Here Without You**

The thing about Mondays, is that something always goes wrong. The day that comes with a painful strike at the beginning of the work week, has never been favorable to Brooke Davis. And even now – when her days had become so boringly routine and predictable that they all blended together in her mind and she had lost idea of when the day ended and the night began – the Mondays stood out.

Today was no exception.

The voicemail was short and sad. Karen had always hated to be the bearer of bad news, and that combined with the pleading in her voice was enough to make Brooke crack – but just barely.

She wasn't exactly sure why anyone expected her to return this time. She didn't come back for the last funeral. And that one had hit far more close to home than the one of a basketball coach she barely knew. But in a way, Brooke knew it was easier to grieve for those you didn't really know – then to face the pain of admitting the one you love is gone.

She stopped going on dates. They seemed to irksomely remind her, when she couldn't pick up the phone the next day and drone on and on to Peyton about the new guy, that her best friend was really gone.

It was as if the last four months she had been living in a trance. She cut her hair into a shoulder length layered mess, with block-like bangs. She started wearing black pants and collared shirts to work, instead of her normal eccentric skirts. She let her apartment go – didn't have much of a will to clean it anymore.

And she didn't call. Cutting ties with everyone in Tree Hill, save Karen, seemed like the easiest way to move on.

But with each fake cheerful note from Haley, with each short message from Nathan on her voicemail, and with each long and painful email from Lucas, the days got harder and harder. The support system her friends had built after Peyton's death was certainly strong enough to bear Brooke, broken down and unaware Brooke, but her only problem was with letting them.

She simply didn't know how.

* * *

"I'm going to need a week."

The look on her bosses face was unnerving. "What do you mean 'you need a week?'"

Brooke wasn't sure why she stayed in a job where she hated her colleagues, didn't enjoy the work she did, and was terrified of her job. Just half a year ago she was on her way to becoming an editor for a prestigious fashion magazine. But then she stopped caring – stopped caring about anything – and her work seemed irrelevant.

"I'm going through some personal things, and I need to go home for a few days."

"We are in the middle of our biggest issue of the year. You cannot just pack up and leave because you are having petty issues with your boyfriend."

"It's not that!" She hadn't meant to raise her voice, but it had slipped out.

Kendra stared at her for a minute, before putting her eyes back on her work.

Brooke didn't stay for an answer.

* * *

Somehow she was back. In the rental car, weaving her way through the unchanged streets of Tree Hill. She spotted the movie theatre, drove by the Rivercourt, stole a glance at Tree Hill High, and turned onto Oak Road.

She was driving by, and the For Sale sign popped out to greet her. Her vision began to blur, her shoulders began to shake, and she had driven onto the lawn.

It seemed as though the car was closing in on her. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, and her feet came off the petals. Peyton's house looked unchanged, despite the fact that it had been a good year since Brooke had been on this lawn. Her eyes were tightly screwed shut, but she heard a knocking, and wiped her eyes before unrolling the window to speak to a concerned looking woman.

"May I help you?"

It registered with Brooke that this woman must be the one selling the house. Brooke shook her head quickly, and put the car into rear. She muttered an apology, and backed up onto the road.

Soon she was driving down yet another familiar street. And soon she was at the house. _That _house. Which, in some ways, was where she least wanted to be. But in others, it seemed like her best bet.

Reaching the porch, she extended her hand to the doorbell, and pressed it once. She could hear it echo through the house, and flinched slightly at it's loud noise. She'd taken the redeye, and it was still only 8am – she doubted Karen was even up yet.

But then the door was flung open to a very shocked-looking Karen. The woman Brooke had almost known as her mother just stared for a good 20 seconds. Then it was simply an envelopment of hugs and tears.

* * *

"I wasn't sure if you were going to come," said Karen, as she poured the hot coffee into Brooke's mug.

Brooke yawned. "I wasn't either."

Karen reached out and tucked a wisp of hair behind Brooke's ear. "Your hair. It's shorter – and…"

"I added some red," Brooke finished. "I just needed a change."

"It looks gorgeous," Karen responded with a soft smile. There was a small pause. "Are you ready to…"

"Talk? Not really, no." Brooke gave Karen an apologetic look.

"That's fine," the older woman responded with a soft smile. "You look exhausted dear – why don't you take a nap?"

"That doesn't sound too bad actually," Brooke said with a grateful smile.

"Lucas' bed is made up. He won't mind," she added, seeing the look on Brooke's face.

"Thank you."

* * *

The room hadn't changed much, but the funny thing was, it seemed much smaller. Back in junior year, it was so new and mysterious – she was always snooping through his drawers and closets, always treading lightly on his floor, as if she was trespassing. But then came senior year, and the room transformed into more of her own. A pair of her jeans and a hoodie took up the bottom drawer of Lucas' dresser, a jacket of hers hung in the closet. Her toothbrush had found it's way into his bathroom – her flip flops were a permanent fixture next to his bed. And the bed itself – that became her own.

_"Brooke?" The side door to his room swung open and closed, and Lucas glanced over at his clock, which read 2am. _

_"Hey Broody." She murmured a curse as she bumped into his nightstand, before climbing into his bed. He snaked an arm around her, felt the soft material of her tank top, and knew she had driven over in her pajamas._

_"What's going on?"_

_She buried her head into his chest. "Tutorwife and your brother are doing the nasty, and my couch is uncomfortable."_

_Lucas laughed. "Not an image I need of Nathan."_

_"Sorry, Broody," she said, bumping her lips against his chin, missing his mouth by a few inches, before finding his tongue with her own. _

_Then the pressure was gone and she was snuggling closer to him. He leaned into her ear and whispered an "I love you."_

_Sleep had almost taken her as she mumbled something incoherent, but Lucas knew that it was "I love you too."_

The sheets were the same – he hadn't bought new ones – not even after he started going out with Peyton. And there wasn't much sense in changing them when he got back from college and moved into his own apartment.

She had assumed the bed would feel foreign and odd. But her tiredness overcame any awkward feelings she was having, and she finally let sleep take her.

But she didn't sleep soundly. Mirages of her best friend overtook her dreams, and faded into oblivion, confusing Brooke as to what was reality, and what was purely her imagination.


	2. Remind Me Why I'm Here

**Fix You**

I have developed a better idea of better idea of what this story is concerning. It's going to be a little mysterious and more confusing than I originally thought - and more of a Lucas/Brooke/Nathan/Haley love web. It is not AU, but it is a future-fic, and will be explaining in flashbacks what happened after and during high school, and secrets that people tried to conver up

**1. Remind Me Why I'm Here**

As soon as Lucas stepped into the house, he knew something was up. Karen's new oddities - tiptoeing quietly through the house, nervously twisting her hair between her fingers, and pacing silently past his bedroom door – all contributed to his belief that something was definitely up.

He dropped his bag by the front door, and as he did, realized that an unmarked suitcase was leaned up against the coat rack.

"Mom, what's going on?" he asked, as she greeted him.

"Oh, nothing, nothing. What's the bag for?"

"Don't you remember – they're starting to paint my new house today – you said I could stay here for a week or so."

Karen clapped a hand to her forehead. "Oh, that's right! I forgot!"

"What's wrong, mom? Why are you acting so weird? And whose suitcase is that?"

Karen sighed and nodded her son into the kitchen.

"Coffee?" He nodded and took note of two already empty cups sitting on the kitchen table. He collapsed into the chair.

"Hard night?"

"Grading papers. You will not believe how dull it is to have to sift through 50 essays on _Ethan Frome_, only about 8 of which are decent."

"I can imagine. But I would give them a break. Their only High School freshman."

Lucas laughed. "Okay, back to the subject. What's going on?"

Karen sighed and lowered herself into the chair. "You remember how after the accident, you and Nathan and Haley tried to get in touch with Brooke?"

The worry wrinkles on Lucas' face set in. "We never did. God, I just hope she's okay."

Karen cleared her throat. "There's something I never told you. Just with getting your lives back on track, and Nathan and Haley having to deal with Cody and Sarah, and now Brian too, I figured it would complicate things if I told you that…"

"That what?"

"About a month after the accident I got in contact with Brooke." A look of shock registered on Lucas' face but Karen kept going. "She called me, actually. Sounded pretty depressed. Wanted to check up on how things were doing."

Lucas stood up. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I promised her, Luke! She said that she didn't want to be another burden on the shoulders of all of you."

"Didn't she realize that worrying about where she was has been more stressful than if she'd come home?"

Karen was at a loss for words. Finally she spoke up. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

Lucas looked to his room and swallowed. "You mean she…"

Karen nodded. "She got here about an hour ago."

"Why is she here now?"

Karen shrugged. "Whitey's funeral."

"So she came back for Whitey's funeral, but not her own best friends?"

"It could have just been to hard for her."

Lucas sighed and his face softened. "I just wish she had gotten in touch with us."

Karen stood up. "Well, she's here now. Look, I've got to go pick up Alda from Deb's. Are you gonna' stick around?"

Lucas nodded. "I'll probably just wait for her to get up."

"Okay. I don't know if she's going to want to see Nathan and Haley today. It may take awhile."

Lucas rolled his eyes. "She dug herself into that hole when she cut ties with us."

"I think she knew she would have to deal with it eventually."

* * *

As he entered the room silently, his eyes immediately went to the curled up form on the bed. Brooke lay on her side, facing away from him, a pair of white socks sticking out from her faded pair of jeans. He made his way around the bed and saw her hair, which was shorter, and had a red tint, sprawled across the pillow. His breath hitched in his throat as he found her face with his eyes, a frown playing across her lips, her eyes closed. Though it had been a year since he last saw her, her face looked exactly the same – only more broken – more fragile.

Lucas realized she was stirring as her weight shifted across the mattress, and her eyelashes fluttered. In an instant, her eyes opened.

Her stare was fixed on him for a few seconds, before he think she realized where she was, or what was going on.

"Lucas." She sat up quickly in his bed, and brushed the bangs out of her eyes.

"H-hey." He was just as startled by her sudden awakening as she probably was by his presence in the room.

"What are you doing here?" She realized as the words came spilling out of her mouth, that it was a dumb question – this was his room after all.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," he replied softly, resting his weight on the edge of his desk. Her eyes moved to the floor, stumbling across her answer.

"I…I was kind-of, I don't – I…I came back for Whitey," she finished, finally meeting his eyes.

His look was sad – if not disappointed. She could tell her was already looking through her – judging her. It's all people every did anymore.

There was honestly nothing she could do anymore. It had been like this for the past week. He would sit in front of the tv with a beer in one hand, watching old basketball game footage, and brood like Lucas used to do.

* * *

Haley knew that it would take awhile for the shock of it all to eventually wear off Nathan. (Although to her, it hadn't been all that shocking. Whitey was 80 after all.) But his utter lack of contribution to running the household had reached an all time low – and Haley threw him out, told him to go to the Rivercourt, just to get him out of her hair.

The sun was just beginning to dip below the skyline of the buildings, as Nathan slowly turned the ball around in his hands. It was the one he had used in high school, and each wear in the material, each scratch along the rubber – each of those markings had a memory.

He let the ball drop to the concrete. It made a hollow sound when it hit, and as it did, he heard the approaching clacking of flip flops.

He turned and saw her cross the court. A look of surprise crossed his face, and he stood still for a second as he registered that she was actually standing in front of him.

Brooke Davis and Nathan Scott would always have history. Separately, the times their lives had intertwined, they didn't measure up to much. But when added together, their past was not something to be ignored.

_"We don't tell anyone."_

_"Brooke!" he said with an air of desperation as the girl to be feared hurriedly buttoned up her jeans and pulled her tank top over her head. _

_She escaped from the linens and retrieved her bag from where it had been thrust into the chair. _

_"Brooke!"_

_"Stop it, Nathan." The words were muttered – yet sharp. They were a warning. _

_And so he stopped. Watched the fifteen-year old girl with the broken dreams and the lost character leave without so much as a goodbye. _

_They slept together to feel satisfied. Now all he felt was empty. _

He stood at an edge of uncertainty – deciding whether to retrieve the ball from where it was rolling to the end of the court – or to envelop her in a hug. He chose the former.

Brooke hovered by the hoop, fidgeting with the zipper on her sweater. "Are you okay?" she finally asked, as he turned back to face her.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," she heard for the second time in the day.

Brooke looked to the ground. "I'm sorry about Whitey."

"Is that _really _what you're sorry about, Brooke? About Whitey? Really?" There wasn't much will left in him to be angry – not at her anyway, but the words kept coming. "You aren't sorry about not visiting for a year? Or how about cutting your friends out of your life for the past four months? Or maybe, just maybe – "

"I get it!" she interrupted. "I fucked up! I just couldn't deal with it – you know? It was too much."

"Don't give me that shit. You may have been Peyton's best friend. But I dated her for three years. Lucas went out with her for two. She and Haley were like sisters. You don't get to think you have the privilege of being a total bitch, just because you think you were the most affected."

Brooke knew that the tears were coming, and she hated it. She hated to let people see her cry. So with a turn on her heel, she retreated back across the court, and disappeared into the dusk.

Nathan stood there for another few minutes, just staring at the spot where she had been, before getting into his car, and driving home.

* * *

She was sitting on his bed, puling off her shoes, when Lucas entered the room.

"The funeral's tomorrow," he said bluntly, moving to the closet to find his suit.

"Sorry about crashing in here," she responded, avoiding the question. "I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

"Don't be ridiculous," he muttered, grabbing a book from his desk. "Are you ready?"

"For what?"

"To see her."

"To see who?"

Lucas gave Brooke a look. "Don't play stupid. You know who. Although, I doubt she'll be at the funeral. I mean, Haley loved Whitey. But with Sarah and Kyle, I don't think she'll be able to make it. And of course, now there's Ryder."

The last jab hit Brooke hard. "You had to bring it up, didn't you?" she responded sharply. "The guilt train just keeps on rolling. I get what I did. I get that I fucked up."

"You know what, Brooke? I'm not so sure you do!" There was a new fire to Lucas' voice that hadn't been there before. "You know, it would have been one thing if you weren't so god damn woven into our lives. If you were just a friend that couldn't handle coming home. But you had a responsibility! You still do! And now everything that you left behind – that is what's weighing down on us. On me, but especially Nathan and Haley."

"Lucas…"

"I just can't believe you would do this. To your best friend. She left Ryder to you. She _trusted _you with her son. And you broke that trust. And handed off that burden to Nathan and Haley. Without even telling them why. So why don't you dwell on _that _for awhile," he added, before retreating into the hallway and slamming the door, leaving a broken girl inside the bedroom in which she used to feel safe.


	3. Guilt and Rage

**A/N**__ _I should be shot. No, literally, I don't deserve life. I can't believe I went so long without updating any of my stories. It's just - I've been away so much that it's been so hard for my to work on them. Please don't hate me. I have one chapter left for When the Sky Comes Crashing Down so I'm going to try to write that tomorrow morning. And I'm about a quarter of the way through a new chapter for Finding Our Way Back To Us, so I will try to get that to you no later than Saturday morning._

_One last, I'M SORRY!!!!_

_Anyway, I hope you like this chapter )_

_xo Emma_

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**3. Guilt and Rage**

Haley sighed into the crib as the small boy kept crying. Her previous attempts to quiet him down had been cast away, the stuffed animals thrown to the other side of the nursery. The only thing Ryder would cling on to was a filthy old stuffed rabbit that Haley assumed had never been washed. Soothingly she pried the rabbit from his hands and made a mental note to run it through the washing machine later.

"You ready to go?" Nathan came into the room, speaking to her in a very monotone voice.

Haley lifted Ryder out of his crib. "Maybe I shouldn't go. I don't want to leave Ryder when he's crying."

Nathan sighed. "Haley, the sitter's already here. He'll be fine."

Haley replaced Ryder who still had tears streaming down his face and followed Nathan with a few backward glances. She paused in the living room to place a kiss on her 7 year old son and 4 year old daughter's cheeks. Their eyes were glued to Spongebob Squarepants.

Once they were in the car, Nathan paused before starting the ignition.

"What?" Haley saw her husband's hesitation.

"Maybe you should drive," he said, looking into his lap. "I had a few drinks."

"Already?" Haley felt the anger rise up in her stomach. "Nathan, it's barely noon!"

"Don't lecture me!" he snapped.

Fuming, Haley pushed open the car door and strode around to the other side. Nathan climbed out of the driver's seat.

"I can't believe you Nathan. Believe it or not, we have three children living in our house. They don't need a father stumbling around drunk half the time."

He didn't respond to her last comment, just stared moodily out the window as she pulled out of the driveway.

Haley knew that this was just a phase – that Nathan was simply depressed about Whitey. It had almost seemed as though things were getting better yesterday. Then he had returned from the Rivercourt livid, slamming the door behind him and retreating to the study for the remainder of the day. Haley wondered if something had happened down there, or if he was simply having mood swings.

"At the Rivercourt yesterday," Nathan said, as though he was reading Haley's mind. "I kind-of ran into…" he trailed off.

"Who?" She asked, stealing a glance at him.

"Nevermind," he grumbled, returning his gaze to the window.

"Who?" Haley asked again, persistent. This would be the answer to his foul mood yesterday.

"No one. Just drop it."

And she did.

IIIIIIII

Brooke had barely unpacked yesterday, so getting her things together was not difficult. She traveled a fair amount, and had learned to pack light, though light for Brooke Davis was anything but for anyone else. However, on this trip she had packed mainly jeans and sweats, save for the dress she was wearing now, finding solace in her comfort clothes.

She took one last look around the room. The ironic thing was, she had always felt safer in this bedroom than she had in any other room she had ever slept in. Not because it was Lucas'. Simply because it made her feel safe. Maybe it was the soft colors or the way the light from the window spilled onto the bed in the afternoon. Or maybe because a portion of her heart went into that room one day, and never really came out.

Smoothing out her simple black halter dress, she stepped out into the hallway. Lucas was in the living room, folding up the blankets that he had slept with on the couch.

"Where are you going?" he asked, eyeing the suitcase that she was trailing behind her.

"I'm gonna' check into The Riverside before the funeral."

"Why?" he paused in his actions, looking up at her.

"Come on Lucas. Your mom's hospitality is nice and all, but we both no this isn't going to work as long as your mad at me. And since clearly you're still mad at me, which I don't exactly blame you for, I think it would be better if we weren't in such close quarters."

She could see he knew it was true. Though they had lived together for a few weeks her junior year, she could see how these few days wouldn't be nearly as enjoyable. She could cut the tension with a knife, and she wasn't exactly envisioning spending extended periods of time lounging around with Lucas, fighting over the remote.

He didn't stop her as she rolled her suitcase out the door. However, he watched from the window as she pulled the rental car out of the driveway, and disappeared down the road.

"Did Brooke just leave?" Karen asked as she entered the room.

"Yeah. She went to The Riverside. She said something about not wanting to impose on you any longer."

Karen shrugged. "She hadn't exactly been a nuisance. But she probably needed her space."

"Yeah," Lucas responded absentmindedly. Though Brooke hadn't exactly been a prevalent part of his life recently, it was though her return had knocked him off balance. She baffled him in that she had changed so much from when he first met her. While she kept her fierce sense of loyalty and her strong heart, she had evolved so much from the lost and confused girl he had found naked in his backseat at the beginning of their junior year. He had written about her almost two much in his first book, that his editor had asked him sarcastically if he would like to change the title of his book from "An Unkindness of Ravens," to "I Heart Brooke Davis Fan Club."

_He searched for her over the crowd, but he couldn't spot her. She wasn't with Haley, or Nathan, or Peyton, or Chase…_

_And then he spotted her, over behind a pillar. She was crying._

_"Hey," he came up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "What's wrong?"_

_"Nothing," she blubbered with a small smile, brushing the tassel from her face. "It's just…I know moving on is a good thing. I guess I'm just scared – you know? High School's safe and I'm not so sure if I'm ready for the real world."_

_He paused, wondering if this was the right time, or if he should simply wait until she read the book. He decided on the former._

_"Um," he removed a leather-bound book from the pocket of his graduation robe. "For the past few months I've been writing this, I guess in parts, so I could remember it all. But um…" he flipped through the pages trying to find a good section. "Here." He handed her the book and pointed awkwardly to his chosen passage._

_"She was fiercely independent – Brooke Davis. Brilliant, and beautiful, and brave. In two years she had grown more than anyone I had ever known. Brooke Davis is going to change the world someday and I'm not sure she even knows it." _

_Brooke seemed to be crying even more now as she looked up at him with a watery smile. _

_"You're gonna' do great, Brooke. The world doesn't stand a chance."_

_"Thank you." He leaned in for a short hug, which she accepted. Then she turned to go._

_"Hey Luke," she said, looking back. He looked up. "I'm sorry about you and Peyton," she said after a pause._

_He smiled softly. "Don't be."_

IIIIIIII

She didn't want to go to the funeral, just the wake, so she simply sat around the hotel room for an hour, attempting to unpack, but always getting sidetracked by the Democratic debate that was on television.

She had bad experiences with funerals. There was her grandmother's when she was six. That had been hard for her simply because her Nana was her last living grandparent, and one of her only relatives that she really loved.

Of course Peyton's mom passed away when she and Peyton were nine. And she had to be brave for Peyton and let her curly haired friend cry on her shoulder and squeeze her hand until it hurt, even though Brooke herself was crumbling inside. She still had images of Anna giving the girls chocolate chip cookies in the afternoon, and driving them to the mall to take stupid pictures in the photo booth, and tucking them in at sleepovers and giving Brooke a kiss on the forehead as well, more than Brooke had ever gotten from her own mother.

Wakes were easier. If she forgot everyone was wearing black and pretended it was simply a quiet get together, she could make it through. If she only stayed long enough to give her condolences, she was fine. And today, that was all she planned to do.

She arrived at the grand house that belonged to Whitey's niece at around two. She looked for a parking place, and cursed under her breath as she spotted both Lucas' and Haley and Nathan's cars. She had hoped that by arriving late she would miss them, and miss the inevitable confrontation, but she knew that she would have to get it over with eventually.

The house was crowded when she stepped into the foyer, and she quickly sidestepped a few loosely familiar faces, before slipping into the kitchen. She spotted a woman over at the counter who was filling a vase with water. The woman was about 35 and looked vaguely familiar from when Brooke may have seen her at basketball games or around town.

"Kathy?" The woman looked up. "Your Whitey's niece, right?"

Kathy nodded and extended her hand. Brooke shook it. "I'm Brooke. And I'm so sorry about your loss."

Kathy smiled warmly. "Thank you." She paused. "Brooke Davis, right?"

Puzzled, Brooke nodded.

"My uncle used to talk about you. Said you were the most stubborn head cheerleader he had ever known, and that he would miss you when you graduated."

Guilt settled in Brooke's stomach. The realization that Whitey seemed to know her a lot better than she had known him made her feel ten times more remorseful than she had before. But she faked a quick smile before excusing herself to go to the restroom.

IIIIIIII

"What is _she _doing here?" Nathan felt sharp nails on his arm as he turned to his wife.

"Who?" He followed her gaze to the brunette who sat alone on a couch in the living room. "Oh," was all that came out when he spotted Brooke.

"Did you know she was coming?" asked Haley, fire in her eyes as she rounded on her husband.

Nathan figured the best way to answer that was to simply not respond. Haley blew up.

"You did, didn't you? I cannot believe this! You knew she was coming and didn't bother to tell me?"

Nathan pulled Haley into the hallway because they were attracting unwanted attention.

"I'm sorry okay? She showed up at the Rivercourt yesterday apologizing about Whitey and I just kind of let it out on her."

Haley gritted her teeth. Though tried to pretend that Brooke didn't get under her skin, it was getting much harder to do. Immediately after the accident, she excepted it when Brooke asked her if she would keep Ryder for awhile, figured she needed a little time to sort things out and cool down. So Haley tried to keep in touch, sending Brooke little notes letting her know that everyone was fine, Ryder was fine, and was Brooke fine? But then she never wrote back, never called, and Haley grew angry with every passing day. Brooke had simply abandoned the only responsibility she had ever been left with.

Haley had been silent to long. Turning on her heel, she marched straight into the living room and up to the girl she used to call a friend.

"Hey Brooke," she said, folding her arms, and looking down at the brunette as she jumped up from the couch.

"H-Haley. Hi." Brooke held out her arms half-heartedly for an attempt at a hug, but Haley didn't accept it.

"What are you doing here?" The question was accusatory, sharp.

"I'm here for the wake," Brooke responded, as though the answer was obvious.

"Bullshit." Haley spoke and the whole room went silent. She felt a hand on her arm, pulling her back.

"Hales, come on, not here." Nathan sounded more soothing than he had in weeks. But Haley pushed on, anger rising in her stomach.

"You're four months late, Brooke," continued Haley, Brooke's name sounding like nails on her tongue. "Nobody wants you here if you're just coming to fuck with our heads before disappearing again."

Brooke had tears in her eyes and Haley was about to continue before a voice interrupted her.

"That's enough, Haley." Lucas' words came cutting into the conversation, stopping Haley from speaking again. He nodded at Haley to Nathan, and she felt her husbands arm pulling her back through the crowd and out into the afternoon air.

Nathan steered her towards the car. "Don't make a scene," he murmured, though it was much to late for that.

As they pulled out of the long sloping driveway, Brooke emerged from the house, running down the steps and across the lawn to where her car was parked. Lucas followed, yelling her name. He caught up to her and stopped her from climbing into the drivers seat. She was crying, Haley could see that much, and she leaned up against the car as Lucas smoothed her hair.

He was telling her he would drive her. Of course he would. He was a gentleman. Sure enough, he managed to coax her into the passengers seat as he started the car. And then they disappeared from view as Haley and Nathan started down the street.

Haley knew that Lucas would take Brooke back to wherever she was staying and wouldn't leave until the tears stopped. Any amount of anger he had at Brooke Davis was always immediately dissolved when he had to watch her cry.

* * *

_I hope you liked it! Please R+R_


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